


Twisted and Decayed (The Fairytale Departed)

by estel_willow



Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ethan's team is the best because Ethan's the best. He's a genius and he'll be damned if anyone tells him otherwise. He trains his men ruthlessly in efficiency and security drills that would make lesser men buckle under the pressure. He makes Becker work harder because at the end of it all he knows that Becker wants to be better. Needs to be better because Ethan being here is all Becker's fault. </i></p><p><i>After all, this wouldn't have happened if Becker had done his job and saved Abby, Connor and Danny Quinn. If he'd been there to help them back through the anomaly. And Ethan reminds him of this. </i></p><p>In which Ethan's team leader and he's got everyone under his control. Including Becker. Especially Becker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted and Decayed (The Fairytale Departed)

**Author's Note:**

> So this started off as an idea by Futureperfect @ LJ about what would happen if Ethan was the team leader instead of Matt. And he's rather… abusive with the power that he has. And it grew into a bloody monster, as you can see by that word count.
> 
> A great thanks goes out to zetaori @ lj for the sort of beta done for me. It was a monster effort, and yeah, this fic has been made all the better thanks to you, so thank you so much for your assistance, hon! Without you, I think this might still have been sitting, languishing on my hard drive once it was finished because I wasn't entirely sure about posting it. So you can throw flowers at her feet for being so awesome. =)
> 
> As always, feedback is love and much appreciated! Now I'll go start on my next monster fic!

Ethan's team is the best because Ethan's the best. He's a genius and he'll be damned if anyone tells him otherwise. He trains his men ruthlessly in efficiency and security drills that would make lesser men buckle under the pressure. He makes Becker work harder because at the end of it all he knows that Becker wants to be better. Needs to be better because Ethan being here is all Becker's fault.

After all, this wouldn't have happened if Becker had done his job and saved Abby, Connor and Danny Quinn. If he'd been there to help them back through the anomaly. And Ethan reminds him of this.

"Pick up that pace, Private," he barks the order and Becker lifts his head. His eyes narrow in the corners and Ethan's chest tightens in anticipation: is Becker going to argue with him? He hopes so, just so he can justify punishing him later, but Becker merely nods, ducks out of eye contact submissively and pushes himself harder as he runs, feet thudding into the tarmac. The one of the first things Ethan had done was to demote Becker from Captain.

\+ + + 

_"Someone who made such a colossal fucking mistake doesn't deserve to be a captain, don't you think?"_

 _"With all due respect,_ Sir _, you weren't there. We were utterly surrounded. I don't know what else you expect-"_

 _"Becker. Don't tell me you're actually avoiding taking responsibility for this? You were the head of the team. I gave you another chance. After reading through your file, you shouldn't have been given even that."_

 _"I don't think that's professional-"_

 _"Professional? You're not one to talk to me about professionalism. You are directly responsible for three members of your team being killed today. That's your fault. Just like it's your fault that you lost Connor Temple, Abby Maitland and Danny Quinn. Just like it's your fault Dr Paige is dead. Do you not understand the basics of that?"_

 _"..."_

 _"Dismissed. Get out of my sight."_

\+ + + 

Ethan remembers how Becker's jaw had tensed, the way he'd tightened his hand around his wrist trying to control himself. He watches Becker running, pushing himself so hard that his face is white and pale and the sweat pouring off him is making a dark V in the collar and back of his shirt.

He smirks as he watches and he wants. He knows Becker's aware of his eyes tracing over the soldier's form: he can see it in the tense line of Becker's shoulders, like he's just waiting for the next strike to fall, be it physical or verbal, in the way that even though Becker is totally focused on the task at hand (running as part of a fitness drill) he's also completely aware of where Ethan is at all times. Bracing himself for what he's grown to expect.

\+ + + 

_"Tell me again, what happened to Sarah Paige."_

 _"I don't understand why we have to keep going through this. I told you- she-"_

 _"You took her - a civilian doctor - on a futile rescue mission and got her killed. She did nothing except follow your orders, Captain. Do you still think that you deserve the rank you've been given?"_

 _"Yes, Sir. I-"_

 _"-failed in the only thing you were ever asked to do for the ARC, Captain Becker. You were given one mission, one role. What was that role?"_

 _"To protect the scientists, to keep them alive,_ Sir _."_

 _"And did you succeed in your goal?"_

 _"No, Sir, I-"_

 _"You what, Becker?"_

 _"I failed."_

 _"Yes. Yes you did. It's okay, though, because I'll help you make amends."_

 _"Sir?"_

 _"Just trust me."_

\+ + + 

Becker runs until he physically can't run any further and then Ethan makes him do an extra five laps. He's waiting for him in the locker room afterwards with a cold bottle of water and a towel. He says 'well done' and pushes Becker to his knees, pressing him back against the cold metal lockers so he's trapped between Ethan and a hard place.

Becker looks defeated, disheveled and a little dirty kneeling on the floor, sweaty and flushed and Ethan smiles, reaches out and runs his thumb along the curve of Becker's jaw, on the floor like that's what he was meant to be doing. It's a tiny touch of tenderness and the way Becker's eyes lift from where he's been staring at the floor to look at Ethan makes the tiny gesture of weakness almost worth it.

"My office, Private," he orders and Becker nods his head. "Five minutes. Be clean, you stink."

His lips curl into a smile that's bordering on being a sharp smirk and Becker's own lips twitch a little in the corner.

"To be fair, you have just had me running, Sir," he says and Ethan turns on his heel to look at Becker.

"Did I give you permission to speak, Private?" he asks, voice cold steel and sharp edges and Becker looks like he's suddenly realised he's done something very wrong.

"No, sir," he says quickly, ducks his head, looks like he's inwardly cursing himself for what he said and Ethan just smiles, puts his hand on Becker's head. Pulls on his hair and tugs his head back so that he can look into the man's brown eyes.

"My office. Five minutes."

"Yessir."

\+ + + 

He knows he's playing with fire, Ethan knows that he's always one step towards the edge when pushing Becker like this. The soldier isn't weak. He's anything but, in fact, he's controlled and together and calm and just a big damn hero most of the time. Except when you remind him about Connor and Sarah. When Ethan says those names, the fire behind Becker's eyes dies because he knows, he knows that's all his fault and he knows that Ethan knows.

Ethan sits in his office and waits for Becker to come to him, waits for Becker to be standing in front of his desk with his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight and trying to look like he's still got his dignity when he's had everything else stripped from him. Ethan's taken his rank and his pride and his hope. He saw that die when he spread the word that Connor, Abby and Danny had been pronounced MIA. Presumed dead. He'd said that was that and they weren't looking any more.

In front of everyone, making eye contact with Becker, he'd said they weren't wasting any more lives on someone's foolish hope. Most of the staff thought he was talking about Lester.

Becker and Ethan both knew he wasn't.

And dangerous moves or not, Ethan can't help himself from making the Private squirm when he's standing in front of him.

"Do you think you did well in training today, Private?" Ethan asks, watching Becker running through answers in his mind, trying to find the one that he knows Ethan wants to hear. When he doesn't get an answer immediately, Ethan's brow furrows and he looks at Becker again, clearing his throat. "I'm waiting."

"Yes, sir, I believe I did," he answers, tone even and careful and Ethan rolls his eyes, places his palms flat on the desk and uses them to lever himself up. Pushing himself onto his feet so that he can cross around the table to stand in front of Becker. They're about the same height, Becker is all toned muscle from years of training. Ethan is trained, years of pushing himself to the limit on the wrong side of an anomaly, spat out and picked up by the ARC. They dusted him off and offered him a place to stay, and once he'd proven himself capable, they offered him a job. He was to be the head of security: they didn't have one and considering he'd been able to survive in various anomalies, he was considered too knowledgeable to be left to his own devices.

He was given a team and a role and a position. He was given a job to protect and serve, as it were, to be the best at guarding the country against the threat of the anomalies and what came out of them.

It was a job he takes very seriously.

"Do you now," Ethan challenges. He watches Becker's jaw tense, a tick that gives away the way that he's reacting to a situation. Today, Ethan knows, Becker is tired and frustrated. He decides not to push. "You'd be right." He sees that slight twitch of tension in Becker's jaw disappear, though he doesn't drop his shoulders. "At ease, Private, you did good out there today."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Becker asks and Ethan's surprised by the candid request. He doesn't allow his soldiers to speak off the record or freely. It encourages insubordination and they gossip and blather enough when he's not around anyway. Except Becker. Never Becker. Good little Becker who can follow orders to a T even when he desperately doesn't want to.

"Denied." Becker's shoulders tense a little more. That has to hurt. "Sit down."

"Sir?"

"I said, sit down." Ethan knows better than anything that Becker doesn't like being relaxed when he's around, but that sometimes it just happens, and Becker's shoulders loosen, because Ethan takes away his control and reminds him of all the things he's fucked up in his time, and how he doesn't have anything except the job and this -- them -- and no matter what he wanted before, he can never have it again.

Becker sits, but he doesn't relax, Ethan can seen that.

"Good boy." It would have been teasing, but Ethan was serious. Touches of praise kept Becker coming back for more, he knows that much. He moves behind Becker and puts his hands on Becker's shoulders, feeling the old scar tissue underneath the t-shirt tense and bulky and undoubtedly painful. "Don't move. That's an order."

"Sir-"

"That's an order, Private."

"...Yes sir."

His fingertips dig into the muscle, touch strong and Becker's hand tightens into a fist. Ethan knows it hurts. He pushes in further. He can feel and see Becker's jaw tensing. "You really must take better care of yourself," he says, thought they both know the injuries to Becker's back are aggravated by the fact that Ethan pushes him so hard. "You can't protect anyone like this, can you, Becker."

"No, sir," Becker says, clearly reluctantly, teeth gritted.

"It's a good job I've taken that responsibility out of your hands, then, isn't it," Ethan continues, touch lightening softly, fingers kneading the knots instead of torturing them now and Becker breaths out slowly. "No more responsibility on the field other than to yourself and to me. Isn't that a good thing, Private?"

"Yes sir," Becker agrees again. Because at first he might have disagreed with Ethan, felt that he was more than capable of doing the job assigned to him, but he had so many deaths at his hands... so many deaths on his conscience.

"After all, since I took over we've had such a successful run with anomaly detection and creature incursion, haven't we." Becker nods once, tightly. "And how many men have I lost?"

"One, Sir," Becker answers, head dropping forward a little before he can help himself. The pressure on his shoulders feels good. "Just the one."

"How many did you lose in the time you were head of security?" Ethan asks and feels the tension returning to Becker's shoulders.

"I don't remember, Sir." It's a lie, Ethan knows it's a lie. His fingers tangle in Becker's hair and pull hard. Force his head back and make him wince a little at the sudden pain that shoots through his skull.

"Don't lie to me, Becker, I asked you a question. You never forget. You're a soldier, they were your _team_. It was _your fault_. Don't try and let me think that you've forgotten that."

Becker swallows, down bile and shame as he avoids looking Ethan in the eye. He doesn't close his eyes, instead he stares at a point past Ethan's ear, the corner of the room, near the ceiling. His head's pulled back almost painfully but it's fine. He should have just answered the question.

"Dozens, sir."

"Tell me the losses of your last mission."

Becker's lips press together as Ethan reminds him of his failure.

"Civilian casualties: two. Dr Sarah Paige, injured by a Future Predator through the anomaly. She died upon return to our time. Alan Grant, a man who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." He pauses, takes a breath. Ethan's hand strokes down the side of his neck. Encouraging. "Five men were lost in total on that mission, sir. Lieutenants Michael Howard, Sebasitan Shields, Andrew Waltman, Chris Booker and Elliot Fielding. They were all killed by Future Hunters, sir."

"That's not what the report says." Ethan says, pushing that little bit more.

"Sir-" Becker bites his tongue. Answers the unasked question. "Lieutenant Booker was injured, sir. We tried to get him to-"

"We?"

"I tried to get him to safety, but I was carrying Sarah and she was bleeding. My priority was always the scientists." He pauses, the memory's a painful one. "Booker was lagging behind. One of the beasts got his shoulder, started eating him whilst he was still alive. Couldn't have saved him, sir."

"So what did you do?" Ethan asks, even though he knows the answer. He rights Becker's head, moves to stand in front of him, their faces close. Becker can feel Ethan's breath against his face, hates that his heart's speeding up in reaction to it. Ethan's eyes flicker down to Becker's lips.

"I shot him, sir." Becker's voice is hard and to his credit, he barely moves when Ethan's hands lift to grab his jaw, tilt his head back a little, forcing eye contact. "It was the merciful thing to do."

Ethan's lips twist into a smirk and he leans down, pressing that smirk against Becker's downward turned lips. Becker doesn't respond straight away. Ethan's hand drops to Becker's thigh, moves up the inseam of his trousers, cups him through his clothes, palm pressing just this side of rough. If only everyone knew, he thinks, about how Private Becker gets off on being manhandled a little.

Becker gasps and Ethan uses the movement to swipe his tongue over the inside of Becker's lip, over his teeth, other hand gripping the back of Becker's head and pulling him in close.

"No one could ever want you," Ethan mutters against Becker's still mouth. "You're a failure and a murderer, and a pretty shit soldier at that."

Becker says nothing. But Ethan knows that a year of saying the same thing to him has worked, that he's finally getting what he wants from Hilary Becker.

"And I'm giving you the chance for redemption. You should take it."

Becker tips his head up this time when Ethan moves to kiss him again, shifts his hips into the press of a hand against his crotch. He kisses back and wonders when he stopped seeing Connor every time he closes his eyes.

\+ + + 

The anomaly detector on the desk goes off with a ping and Ethan's head snaps up. He likes to be the first one on the scene, the first one to see what comes through the anomaly and that's why he's got his own detector in his office. It's jury rigged. He paid one of the scientists to create a delay between the actual alert and when the rest of the ARC. He's got a ten minute window to get in and see what's happening.

He leaves immediately.

Becker sees him shooting out of his office, feels the sharp pain when he gets shoulder-checked in Ethan's hurry to get out of the ARC.

He knows better than to ask questions.

\+ + + 

"Patrick? Is it really you?"

The man who's come through the anomaly looks nothing like the big brother Patrick Quinn used to idolise. Like the man that was lost fourteen months ago along with two of his friends. He's shaggy and dirty and stinks like death and a men's locker room. His hair's too long and lines are permanently embedded into his forehead.

A traitorous part of Ethan's body kicks up, his mind clinging onto the fact that this is Danny. This is his brother.

"Danny?" Patrick asks.

"Are the others- Connor and Abby-"

"Aren't they with you?"

"No, I- where's Becker? Sarah? What's- how come you're the only one here?" Danny looks suspicious, his years of training as a copper rearing their head.

Patrick panics. Ethan takes over.

"Goodbye." Ethan says.

The gun's raised and aimed at Danny's head before he even registers what's going on. Danny's eyes have time to widen before he's falling to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.

Ethan rolls the lifeless body back through the anomaly, cleans up the blood and then leaves to go and drive around, waiting for the call that he needs to head to an anomaly.

He feels a weight lifting from his chest.

\+ + + 

By the time Becker and the team arrive at the location, the anomaly's already starting to close itself. It's flashing and pulsating and Ethan turns the corner to see the team with weapons drawn, ready to fight any kind of possible incursion.

Thankfully there's nothing else coming through.

Ethan's ten minutes late to answering the call. He tells Jess he was on the other side of the city and had to fight his way across. No one argues: his black box backs it up, after all.

"What's happening?" he asks and Becker's spine goes rigid. Ethan represses a smile.

"Nothing, sir. There's nothing that's come through the anomaly. We've locked it up, it's just-" The anomaly closes with a whoosh and disappears like it was never there.

Ethan doesn't see the stick that came through with Danny lying just out of sight behind a pole. He wouldn't remember it anyway, he was focused on ridding himself of someone that might ruin all the hard work he's put into making himself - and his team - the best.

"Right, well secure the site, then straight back to the ARC. Can't always expect to be so lucky next time."

"I'll secure the site, you guys head back," he says and Ethan turns on his heel.

"No. Private, you're to come with me."

"But sir-"

"Are you arguing with me?" Ethan asks, his eyes narrowing. It's a warning as much as anything and Becker knows what's coming next if he doesn't just shut up and follow orders. "I said, you're with me. Now let's go and leave the competent soldiers to do their jobs."

There's the tiniest twitch in the corner of Becker's eye, like the dress-down stings.

"No sir," he mutters.

"Right. Pick up the anomaly device and let's get out of here. My car. Give your keys to Johnson."

Becker looks like he wants to argue but doesn't. Instead, his hand slides into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out the keys to the SUV he drove here. He tosses them to Johnson. Ethan clicks his tongue, starts moving.

Becker follows.

\+ + + 

_"I read the report, Captain, it appears that your reports have a slight bias towards one Connor Temple."_

 _"No, sir, it just happens that Connor Temple is-_ was _a bit of an idiot on the field. Tended to act first and think later. Always wanted to jump in and try and save the day without really thinking about the consequences until it was too late and someone had to slide in and save him."_

 _"You sound almost fond, Captain. Is there something I should know about?"_

 _"No, sir."_

 _"Really? You answered that awfully quickly."_

 _"He was living in sin with Abby Maitland, Sir."_

 _"That, as we all know well enough, Captain, means nothing. Not that it matters, he's dead now. It's not like you had a chance or anything, even if he wasn't. How could you compare with someone like Abigail? Pretty little thing, she was. Weren't enough to make him stay, instead of running off half-cocked on a mission that got him killed, were you."_

\+ + + 

Becker thinks it's lucky he manages to sneak off, having seen and hidden the stick at the anomaly site. He knows it's important, doesn't know why it's important, but he does and he sneaks back to get it and bring it to the ARC once the anomaly's closed. Becker doesn't know if he can trust anyone to collect it and bring it back without telling Ethan. Ethan doesn't like secrets. He rewards people for grassing on each other. Promotions and bonuses.

It's sickening to Becker, and what sickens him more is how he wants to be a part of that, how he wants to be _the best_.

\+ + + 

He's angry the day he realises that Jess knows about the lag on the system. He's even angrier when she fixes it and jauntily announces over the comm system that she's found a bug and that she's just corrected the problem. There would be less of a lag now for anomaly alerts. They'd be told in time, they'd be able to save people.

If he was angry before, he is furious when he finds out that the tech who had fixed the loop for him previously has been taken away by the MOD to hack some satellite or whatever.

His mood went white hot, anger burning and blazing behind his eyes as he saw a bone in one of the labs as he stormed through the ARC looking for someone (Becker) to take his anger out on. It's got fingerprints on it, that have been carefully extracted, highlighted in blue, ridges and marks clear from where it was handled and a screen to the left with a picture of a man who Ethan had thought he'd gotten rid of.

Danny Quinn's face stared back at him, his police profile and his fingerprints lit up, flashing **Match Found** , beeping softly to itself. The beep was slow and insistent, like hope coiling in the stomach of the men and women who were left. Clinging desperately to the stories that Becker told at the beginning of these three people whose abilities seemed almost superhuman. Not that they heard them any more. Ethan didn't allow Becker to tell stories of the dead anymore. Ethan didn't really allow Becker to do much.

He spots another set of fingerprints on the bottom of the bone and reaches out, tapping the keyboard, switching the screen.

 **Match Found** it says.

And Becker's face is looking back at him.

\+ + + 

_"Your father was a decorated military man. And your grandfather. And so on down the generations, it's an impressive legacy to uphold. Does it feel pressured? Do you feel pressured to be everything they were?"_

 _"No, sir, I'm my own person."_

 _"What have I told you about lying to a superior officer, Private? You'll never be as great as them, will you."_

 _"I don't want greatness. That's not why I do this job."_

 _"Clearly not. Otherwise you'd be better at it."_

\+ + + 

Becker stretches, standing in the locker room and tugging his shirt off. He shifts on the spot, feeling aches deep in his muscles, old injuries from the field trying to haunt him and his steps as he moves, changing from his work uniform into his civvies to go home. Days like this he tends to try and avoid Ethan if he could. Days like this, he misses the easy sound of Connor's laugh and Abby's warm touch to his shoulder, even the friendly clap against his back from Danny as they walked the length of the ARC, looking at the vents and working out where the weaknesses would be, how to stop intruders with the slightest bit of imagination getting in from the outside.

God, he's sore.

Their last incursion had been messy. Nothing too serious, just a disgruntled herbivore with a fucking club for a tail (Ankylosaurus, the voice in his head that stubbornly sounded like Connor provided) had freaked out and tried its best to pulverise the whole team.

Ethan had ordered it filled with lead and it limped back through the anomaly. It probably died on the other side, bled out somewhere and was being eaten as he thought about it by some raptor, or a Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was a scavenger, he remembered Connor telling him about it, the way his face had lit up and his hands had moved, animated in the telling. How fond Abby had looked, how fond they all had.

His chest hurts suddenly, a sharp ache, feeling the loss of something that was never his to lose in the first place, but he feels it and it hurts. It burns and takes his breath away and for a brief moment he lurches forward, braces himself on the bench in front of him and forces himself to breathe.

He knows it's stupid, thinking about Connor and remembering 'what ifs' because Connor liked competent people, people who knew what they were doing, responsible, dedicated, in charge. Not afraid of failing. People like Abby. Becker had, once, considered himself one of those people, confident and sure but he isn't now. Maybe he never was.

Becker doesn't know anymore. He doesn't know who he is without the rest of his team around. _His_ team, not this twisted gang of misfits that Ethan's pulled together from the dark arse of the pits of the British military. Becker thinks he's maybe the only good guy left, but then he's reminded about Sarah and Connor and Abby and Danny and he remembers that he couldn't save them, that he can't be trusted to protect anyone.

Why should he be? If he couldn't even save the person he had maybe - maybe - loved?

It doesn't matter any more, though, because he knows what he deserves and what he needs and he need someone to take away that responsibility, to take away the pain of knowing he's responsible for the deaths of his closest - and only - friends. And in letting someone else take control, he knows that his fuck ups can't cause anyone else's death. Becker's a strong man, he is. But he can't handle any more deaths on his watch.

He shivers in the cool air of the locker room, watches the door warily for a moment before he strips out of his trousers too, folding them neatly on top of his black t-shirt and shaking out his jeans. His back is a patchwork of scars, each one telling part of the story of his life, mapped out on his skin like a road map, clear and open for anyone who wants to look close enough to read it. But no one does, and no one ever has. Becker doesn't let people close, it's always been the best way he can think of to defend himself against the inevitable heartache that would come from losing friends, from one too many nights of _it's classified, sorry_ over a beer or at a barbecue. He knows civilian life isn't for him, and now he knows, too, that friends aren't for him either. Connor wriggled past his walls and now Connor's dead and Becker's suffering.

It stings. It hurts. Becker thinks about the men earlier, how they'd looked at him and smirked and wishes that he didn't care. Most of the time, in all honesty, he doesn't, because he deserves it, but sometimes... Just sometimes he wants to remind them that - once - he was in charge, that he could kill them at 50 paces away without breaking a sweat. But he never does.

Shimmying into his jeans, Becker fastens up the buttons and belt with quick, deft hands and looks for his sleeveless shirt to tug on, to hide the worst of the scarring across his lean chest and back when he hears heavy footfalls and he feels ice trickle down his spine, contrasting with the strange warmth that's started to pool in his stomach every time he looks at Ethan and sees him with a particular fire in his eyes. It coils and twists around his gut, speeds up his heartbeat and sends adrenaline spiking through every nerve, alight and alive and he hates himself for it.

"Spar with me." It's a command, it tugs at Becker's core, the idea of sparring an opponent he knows he's going to lose to because he's got rules and regulations, hours of practise and training under his belt to hold back in sparring, Ethan doesn't have that. Ethan's alive and dangerous and thrilling, he's like a whirlpool, a tornado, a thunderstorm. A natural disaster that he can't get away from, but then... thinking about it, he doesn't always want to.

Becker's not on form, he never is these days. He hasn't been on form for a long time. Not since his demotion, not since Sarah's death. And at the same time, he's desperate for something to hurt just so that he knows he's still breathing, just wanting someone to take away the frustration and the pain and the overwhelming, completely crushing sense of failure that threatens to drown him, sneaking up on him when he isn't looking and stealing his breath. It's why he never says no to these sparring matches.

"Sure." He moves to put his shirt on and he feels Ethan's hand close around his elbow, leading it down.

"No need," he says, and pulls his own top off. Becker can't help but look, he's never been allowed to touch and feels a little bit like he really wants to, just to see what it's like. "Now we're even. C'mon, Private. I could do with some stress relief."

Becker bites back the _I could take you any time_ that's sitting on the tip of his tongue and just shrugs his shoulders, falls into step behind Ethan as they leave the locker room and he's undoing his belt.

All he says is "Yes, sir."

\+ + + 

Ethan shifts on the spot, he's got Becker in the training room and they've both got their hands wrapped. He watches Becker settle into the standard military fighting stance; his legs are slightly bent, arms up to protect himself. When they first started doing this, Becker looked cocky, confident. Now he looks sort of resigned.

Ethan loves it.

"You ready, Private?" he asks, dragging the rank out and Becker just tenses his jaw, nods stiffly. "Don't let me win, that's an order."

Before Becker even gets a chance to answer the affirmative - Ethan knows that's what he'll say, it's what he always says - Ethan's launching himself across the mats, tackling Becker. He sees the bruises on his chest and knows that he caused some of them from fights just like this. They hit the mat and he hears the involuntary grunt of pain as the air is pushed out of Becker's lungs. He bears his teeth and punches.

The hit catches Becker's cheek and it snaps his head to the side. He grits his teeth and as Ethan raises his hand to hit him again, Becker bucks his hips and knocks Ethan off balance, rolling away and getting back on his feet, tongue sliding over his lower lip. He tastes the edge of blood: Ethan never did hold back. He forces himself to move as Ethan gets to his feet, feral and wild and slides into a defensive position.

Their punches are fast, he catches Ethan with a sharp right hook, a jabbing punch that hits Ethan in the jaw and something inside of Becker takes pleasure in the fact that Ethan's lip is bleeding, split from the force of the punch. Ethan's eyes darken as his tongue moved over his lower lip and Becker stills his breath, tightens his jaw. He isn't afraid, he's not afraid of anything anymore. He's already failed, already lost the people closest to him. Already lost-

Becker barely flinches when Ethan's fist comes into contact with his stomach.

When they 'spar', they don't punch where people can see, not often. Ethan's hits all fall below the neck, above the waist, where Becker can hide them. Becker's hits are in similar places. The taste of his own blood has Ethan's blood boiling, has him racing towards Becker with his teeth bared like an animal, hit after hit catching Becker's already sensitive rib cage, a knock to his kidney, a fist of fingers in hair as the sparring become more physical, a test of wills and of strengths and whilst Becker is anything but weak, Ethan's will is stronger and he knocks Becker to the floor, on his front and straddles his hips, fingers of one hand pressing into bruises along the curve of Becker's spine, the other hand still fisted in his hair - slightly too long - and tugging.

"I thought I told you not to let me win," Ethan's saying, bent low with his voice purring in Becker's ear. It's smug and twisted and Becker clenches his jaw, manages to put his hands flat on the ground and _pushes_ upwards, forcing Ethan off him and rolling to his feet again, feeling the cold against his back where Ethan had been, the creeping chill of disgust rippling over his skin and Ethan laughs. He's on his feet and looking impressed. "That's better."

He rolls his shoulders and they start again.

\+ + + 

Becker doesn't know why he keeps going back, meeting Ethan in his office when there's barely been an order. He knows Ethan's twisted and he knows that it's messed up beyond all measure but he can't seem to stop himself. He thinks maybe it's punishment, as if training and running himself into the ground, taking part in every drill and every mission isn't enough. As if being humiliated on a daily basis isn't enough to give him the punishment he feels he needs for failing so spectacularly. If his father could see him now.

Becker's a twisted mess of self-loathing now and he hates Ethan but he hates himself more for everything that's happening - that has happened - and that will happen because nothing can stop Ethan, not when he plays the game so well, not when he's got everyone believing that he's this perfect soldier that just wants the best for his men and to protect the new team of lab-rats and geeks, even if none of them are right - none of them are Cutter or Abby or Sarah or _Connor_ \- and he knows more than anything that they'd all hate the way the incursions are handled now. The anomalies are locked, shut down and sealed and any creatures that come through are killed.

Becker knows that most of the team enjoy that part. Revenge, he thinks, they get to have revenge on some form of creature, even if it's never been directly responsible for the death of their friends. It's all relative when it comes to dinosaurs, or so it seems.

\+ + + 

"Anomaly alert!" Jess' voice is high and excited, fingers tapping over the keyboard and Becker turns from where he's been standing near her, filing reports. He aches, old battle scars mingling with a sense of just being abused so thoroughly from vigorous training, and wishes that the alert would go away so he could leave, go home and crawl into bed because really, what else was there for him to do? This job is his life but he keeps having it taken away from him and he hates it. He hates the way that he feels now and he hates that there's nothing he can do.

His jaw tenses as he hears Ethan sounding off who's coming with him. Of course Becker's on the list. Becker's always on the list.

Jess' hand curls around his forearm, concern warming her voice. It's such an alien concept that Becker barely notices the tone. "Maybe when you get back, we can settle in the cafeteria for something to eat?" she suggests, hesitant and cute and Becker looks at her. She's adorable, painfully like Connor in so many of her mannerisms and he finds himself nodding, even with that icy chill sliding down the back of his neck that he's come to associate with the sensation of Ethan's eyes watching him.

"Sure," he says quietly, covering her hand with his before gently removing it. There might be disappointment on her face, but it's better that he do it now, on his terms, than let Ethan get his hands on her and force it to happen some other way. Becker knows Ethan's more than capable of it, that he's underhanded and sneaky enough to make it happen before anyone else was even aware of it.

\+ + + 

When they get to the anomaly, there's little happening except for two people lying prone on the floor. They've got their hands on their heads and they look scruffy and dirty and like it's been too long since they showered but Becker looks like he knows them.

"I hope you two bought me a souvenir." Becker says and Ethan watches him crouch down, offer his hands, pull them up and into a hug.

Ethan's teeth are pressed together from his position behind them, the creak and crunch of enamel against enamel and he's angry. He doesn't need new - old - people in his team. He doesn't want them back because they would mess everything up. He's read their files, seen the way the remnants of the 'original team' talk about them and he knows that Connor, in particular, could ruin everything. Everything. And Ethan isn't having that.

"Cuff them," he orders, accent lilting and thick as he barks the order and Becker whirls on the spot.

"What? You can't-"

Connor cuts in, "Look, mate, we might look a little wild and all," his hands are lifted, held out in front of himself like he's offering peace to a man that only knows how to communicate with guns and Becker's moved in front of them. Ethan sees Becker shift, Connor's arm's outstretched. He doesn't like that Connor's touching Becker. Not at all. Connor slowly moves past to get a better look at Ethan. "-but we're definitely not dangerous. I mean, Helen Cutter, sure, had a few screws loose, but we're definitely not her. I mean, for one, we've only been gone for like, a year or something whereas she was anomaly-hopping for nearly a decade and since we're all here, like, I'm guessing that means Danny was successful? Where is he?"

Ethan shakes his head, "We haven't seen him," he lies but no one knows that it's not the truth. How could they know? "The report says he was with you." He's holding his own hand out, staying the men from cuffing Connor and Abby because he thinks it might be amusing to watch this play out.

Connor's expression changes from something hopeful to something completely different, like something just broke behind his eyes and Ethan represses the urge to smile. Perhaps it won't be so bad, having little geeky Temple around. Becker reaches out, Ethan watches, his hand resting heavy on Connor's shoulder, squeezing lightly. He watches Connor lean back into it and thinks, _interesting_.

\+ + + 

They don't speak much, they never do. Ethan always makes his demands clear with a wave of his hand or a narrowing of his eyes but today he feels the need to add a threat.

"Temple is legally dead," and he loves how Becker's spine stiffens just a fraction, his hands stilling on the gun he's cleaning carefully. "I'd hate for that to be an actuality so soon after we've found him again."

Becker's jaw tenses.

Ethan smiles.

\+ + + 

Connor's spent most of his life watching. That's just how things are. He was the skinny little nerd that sat at the front of the classroom and had things thrown at the back of his head, but on the playground he learned to be alert, learned to watch and observe. Sometimes he pretended to be an anthropologist, studying a strange alien life form. He feels that those days spent playing pretend with himself prepared him for real life.

Real life is definitely something he's having to readjust to, coming back to civilisation after so long without any. He's coping better than Abby is, though. They'd called it quits with whatever it was they were doing before that year, Connor had actually been thinking about finding a place of his own to minimise the awkwardness. They might still share a bed but that is down to familiarity, a need for the company of someone who _knows_. Who understands why they can't sleep because there's too few sounds, because they've been so used to being on their guard that the idea of letting go to sleep peacefully for eight hours is ridiculous and impossible. In the past they'd talked about everything when they though they'd never be coming back. Connor confessed to having somewhat inappropriate thoughts about Becker, inappropriate feelings. Abby was fairly cool about it, she thought there was something up with the way Connor reacted around the soldier.

He hated himself for it at the time, watching the hurt on her face even though he was only being honest, just like she'd asked him to be. It felt like a betrayal against everything they'd been through, but then she said that she'd never loved him, not really. She'd liked the idea of it, but there just wasn't a reality. They'd sat in awkward silence for the better part of a day until they realised that they're better off as friends.

He spends his days watching Becker now, because it feels wrong to watch Abby and he's spent so long doing that he needs to watch something else. And Becker's always fascinated him, having gained some perspective with distance, Connor's noticing things he doesn't think he would have spotted before. Something's different about Becker now... he's not what Connor remembers, something's changed.

When Becker smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes, he carries himself with a slump when he thinks no one's looking and responds to all manner of insults like he's tired, like he's one step away from giving up everything and just letting go and that's sort of scary.

Connor smiles at him one day and Becker looks back, and when they make eye contact, Connor swears Becker looks almost dead behind his eyes. It's like a punch to the gut and Connor's about to walk over when Ethan barks Becker's name.

The change is instant: guard up, walls up, back straight. Becker falls into the solider-boy routine that he knows and does so well and he walks over to Ethan, ducking his head like a good little subordinate and Ethan just glances over at Connor, smiles and puts his hand in between Becker's shoulder blades, pushing him away.

Connor feels a little bit like he and Ethan just had a pissing contest and that he just lost.

\+ + + 

Having never been much of a detective anyway (always too fond of conspiracy theories and possessing a huge imagination, small, rational leaps across from one idea to another were nearly impossible), Connor knows his plan is pretty much doomed from the start, but it's always worth a try, right? Don't bother sleuthing, just go straight to the source, find out from the horse's mouth, as it were. Whatever colloquialism you want to use, that's what Connor thinks would be the best.

No one else seems to see it and Connor feels a little bit like he's come home to the Twilight Zone: there's something wrong with Ethan and no one seems to notice. He's a good leader, people say, a little too passionate at times and he doesn't socialise well but he gets the job done. But it's just... Connor feels like everyone's been brainwashed. Like Ethan's some sort of Demon Headmaster and he's the only one that can see past that - oddly creepy - smile and facade of professionalism.

He corners Becker in the locker rooms and he's barely had a chance to talk to him since they got back from the past, desperate for some connection to what was there before. Now the ARC is filled with strangers and people making their demands on him and Abby and trying to get them kicked out, Philip Burton - of all people - walking around and half owning the place? It's madness and Connor feels like he's spinning and needs someone just to... help him.

Becker's tugging off his shirt and Connor feels that familiar jumping in his gut, that want and lust mixed with something else, a deep respect and- well, other things that he's hesitant to name. There's bruising along Becker's side, it's dark and it looks painful and new and Connor's brow creases in concern because he knows that Becker hasn't been hurt in the incursions, recently. In fact, the incursions have been comparatively mild.

He doesn't reach out though, just clears his throat, lets Becker know that he's there and the soldier turns around quickly, gun raised before he realises it's Connor and pulls his shirt back on again, quickly, like he's trying to hide his injuries.

"Shouldn't sneak up on people, Connor," he says and his tone is a little clipped. "Did your manners get thrown to the wayside along with your ability to bathe in the Cretaceous?"

It's not meant to be mean, at least, Connor doesn't think it's meant to be, but it makes him flinch a little and Becker's expression immediately changes, looking like he might apologise but thinking better of it. Connor waves a hand, trying for a smile because what else can he do? And just shakes his head.

"Something like that, apparently," he manages tightly and then looks away, ducking his head and taking a slow breath before he just shifts on the spot. "I wanted to- I mean, check that you were okay, yeah?" He glances up again, meeting Becker's eyes briefly and not liking the sort of hollowness that's staring back at him. It makes him feel sick and he doesn't quite understand why. He wets his lower lip, hands itching to reach out and touch Becker, get a physical grounding in the reassurance that the soldier's okay. But he doesn't. "Are you? Okay, I mean?"

Becker's eyebrow lifts. "I'm fine, Connor," he says, but Connor doesn't believe him. Connor's eyes slide to where he knows there are bruises underneath the black shirt. Becker sighs, "Training with the men got a little rough," he offers and again, they both know it's a lie, but Connor doesn't know what to do.

"You know if there's, like, if there's something up you can talk to me, right?" Connor tries and Becker's hands clasp his biceps as he folds his arms, knuckles going white. Connor wonders if he's even aware he's doing that. "As a friend, or whatever."

He doesn't know what they are anymore because a hushed conversation and standing too close before he disappeared for a year isn't much to go on and time changes everything: it's changed Connor and it's changed Becker, but Connor still wants. He doesn't know if Becker does. He doesn't think that right now, this minute, is appropriate to ask, really.

Becker nods, "I can't see an occasion where I'd need to talk but thanks, Connor." He reaches out and squeezes Connor's shoulder but removes his hand before Connor has a chance to touch him in return. It's infuriating and hurts a little bit.

And then Becker's gone, all that's left of him is the scent of his deodorant.

\+ + + 

Ethan watches Connor carefully, nowadays. They've been back for a couple of months and he's well aware that the little geek keeps trying to stick his nose into places it doesn't belong. A flag came up on Ethan's computer: someone was trying to access the fingerprint files from that bone he'd carelessly forgotten about when he'd disposed of his brother (No, not his brother. _Patrick's brother_ ). He sees the little geek's mind working and whirring, twisting and turning thoughts over and over in his head, trying to fix things that aren't broken, trying to sort out problems that don't exist. He's funny. He's quirky.

He's trouble.

Ethan doesn't like trouble. He doesn't like disruptions. He doesn't like the way that Becker subtly moves, stands in front of Connor or in Ethan's eyeline whenever Connor's being stared at particularly hard.

Connor Temple is trouble and Ethan doesn't like that.

\+ + + 

Becker's trying to protect Connor, can't he see that? Becker's trying to protect them all and Connor snooping around and sticking his nose in places it doesn't belong really runs the risk of ruining all of that and ending up with everything Becker's doing - everything he's done - being negated because Connor _doesn't know when to back off_.

It comes to a head when Connor's found poking around in one of the subroutines that run the ARC's systems. He finds a program that was supposed to put a delay on the anomaly alerts, send them to Ethan first. He doesn't go to Lester with it first, he goes to Becker.

Becker shouts at him, tells him to stop looking for evidence that isn't there. That if he doesn't stop, he's going to end up hurting people, people will end up dying and he just needs to- to stop. And back off. Becker reminds him that he isn't a child, he doesn't need looking after: he isn't Connor and the hurt that flashes through Connor's eyes means that he almost enjoys his sparring session with Ethan later on that day.

It's nothing less than he deserves, after all.

\+ + + 

Connor avoids Becker for two days after that but doesn't stop looking or poking around, trying to find something. No one believes him when he says there's something wrong with Becker, and that there's definitely something wrong with Ethan. They just shake their heads: Ethan's great, they say, he's a really good leader. A lot of the lab techs think that demoting Becker was a step too far, but other than that they've got no worries, no complaints, nothing that would make the hairs on their arms stand up. Nothing to worry about, they keep telling him, and then remind him that with Danny gone and Nick dead, who else is supposed to lead the security team?

 _Becker_ , Connor thinks, but doesn't say.

He gets a breakthrough when he's reviewing the feeds for the security cameras. There are fingerprints on all the feeds in the gym and in the locker room, like someone else before him has been in and watched them over and over. It doesn't take him long to find the owner of the prints: they come from Ethan's office computer. Connor's hardly surprised.

But he watches. He watches all the footage he can find, all the security tapes backed up and relabeled, trying to hide dirty secrets that make him feel sick the more he watches, the more he hears. Ethan tried to delete them, it looks like, certain files he didn't want anyone seeing but Connor finds them all, sitting as broken fragments that he has to painstakingly piece back together, but he does it. He doesn't sleep for three days, just watches video after video of Becker and Ethan and realising that what's happening here is far worse than anything he could have imagined and he feels sick.

In fact, at six forty seven on Connor's third day of serious investigative snooping, he does actually throw up in a nearby bucket. It's less throwing up, and more dry-heaving as there's basically nothing but coffee in his stomach. It tastes nasty coming back up again.

\+ + + 

"What's wrong with you?" he asks Ethan in front of everyone. Ethan's eyes lift, slow and sure and confident as he meets Connor's gaze. His lips twitch in the corner, looking amused, even maybe slightly proud that Connor's actually standing up to him. It's more than he had expected.

"I don't know what you mean," Ethan lies, making eye contact with one of his soldiers, silent communication making them laugh. They all think Connor's got a screw loose anyway, the kid works too hard, doesn't rest enough and comes out with the weirdest things. Military minds don't understand him.

Connor opens his mouth to speak but then thinks better of it. He won't humiliate Becker in front of these people. He won't give Ethan the satisfaction. Instead, he shuts his mouth, squares his jaw and walks past Ethan into his office, expecting the man to follow.

Ethan does, but not without looking back at Becker who's standing at the back of the room, stock still with his eyes on Ethan's office door where Connor is silhouetted.

\+ + + 

Ethan loses his temper quite often. It's not uncommon and not unheard of and the fact that he's on a hair trigger is usually considered a good thing in their line of work where it's definitely better to shoot first and ask questions later. He never loses it around people, though, he's got a professional front to consider, after all. He lets loose around Becker because Becker can handle it. Becker deserves it. Half time time, Becker asks for it without even realising and it's Ethan's pleasure to give him what he deserves, what he needs.

But Connor? Connor's nothing. He's no one. The ARC was fine without his blundering idiocy messing everything up with each twist and turn and he narrowly misses a punch in the face when he calls Ethan a sick bastard.

Connor's quick. Quicker than Ethan had anticipated. The file had Connor down as nothing more than a bumbling idiot, a brilliant mind, but he was uncoordinated and clumsy. This Connor, though, dropped into a fighting stance the second he'd dodged the punch from Ethan, though his eyes were darting towards the door. He talks, outlines everything Ethan already knows, looking disgusted when all Ethan does is agree, proud of his accomplishments.

"You don't know what you're dealing with, kid," Ethan warns and Connor just frowns.

"You're going to stop doing this to Becker." Connor says. "He's better than you in every way and it kills you, right? To know he's so successful and you're nothing but someone who messed up and lucked into the right place at the right time? Stealing someone else's job and manipulating the people around you. Well not me, mate, I'm not fooled."

He ducks another punch, jumps backwards when Ethan launches himself over the table. He could kill Connor right here and maybe he was feeling a little overconfident because Ethan doesn't know how much everyone in the ARC cares for Connor. All he's ever seen is how much Becker cares because, really, that's all that's ever meant anything to Ethan: how much _Becker_ cares.

"You'll find yourself without a job, Connor," he warns, crowding Connor into the corner and then whatever confidence Connor had managed to summon up starts rapidly draining away and Ethan grins, sick and twisted and looking forward to this as he steps close, presses his arm against Connor's throat. "What happens here is not your business any more."

Connor struggles. "It'll always be my business," he snaps, fingernails digging into Ethan's arm as he struggles against the pressure at his throat. He can't get a breath in, staring to cough and splutter a little because he- he can't breathe and his toes are barely touching the floor. "This isn't your ARC. It's Lester’s and Becker’s- and Ab- an-" The pressure increases as Connor manages to splutter, “I know what you did to Dan-” Ethan's pressing harder and Connor's starting to go pale, eyes fluttering slower and slower. His struggles are weakening too, he's not fighting as much as Ethan's sort of... disappointed.

"You can't have him, you know," he breathes, and he knows Connor's still awake because his face twitches a fraction, trying to turn his head away. "He'll always be mine, now." Connor's left hand drops from where it had been grabbing at Ethan's arm, followed by the right. He's starting to go limp when there are hands fisting in the back of Ethan's shirt, wrenching him backwards and literally throwing him aside.

Connor crumples to the floor, drawing a gasped breath in and coughs, hands coming up to his neck and then looking to see who it was that had saved him.

Becker's standing there, chest heaving and hair slightly messed up, between Ethan and Connor and he looks furious. Ethan's leaning back against the table and lifting his chin and Becker's back straightens a little but he doesn't back down, not like before, not like Connor has seen on the tapes.

"This isn't your concern, Private," he says and Connor coughs again, on his hands and knees before getting to his feet, wheezing but doing his best to speak anyway.

"He never officially demoted you," Connor says, coughing again. "Ethan's not done any of the paperwork he's supposed to have done, he's submitted the reports of others and signed them like they're his." He rubs at his neck, swaying on the spot a little and Abby runs forward. Oh, Connor notices, there's a crowd at the door. So half a dozen - no, wait, a dozen - people saw him getting his arse handed to him then? Great. Becker says nothing.

Connor feels compelled to continue. "He killed Danny! That- that club that's in the labs? It belongs to Danny, you know that much, right, Becker? You know he's-"

Abby's arms are tight around Connor, cutting him off and keeping him upright but Connor reaches out and presses a hand against Becker's lower back. He knows there was a bruise under there a couple of weeks ago. Becker's jaw tenses, tightens. He looks torn behind his eyes, what he has now warring with what he had, with what he wants. He blows out a breath and tilts his chin at Ethan, which the man takes as an offer to punch him.

It's a shock to everyone how quickly Ethan reacts.

Becker ducks and catches him in the chin with his right fist. Ethan falls to the ground, stunned. Connor watches Becker slump, step backwards and look at his still clenched fist before he's turning on his heel and leaving. Connor wants to follow, but Abby's arms are still tight around his waist and she won't let him leave.

\+ + + 

Ethan protests, of course he protests: why would they believe the word of someone who wasn't even here and was hacking illegally into files over him? The trustworthy sort of soldier who's done nothing but good things for the ARC and its personnel?

But it's Connor, and it's some bloody - correct, mind, but Ethan's not about to admit that - accusation about him killing Danny Quinn and he forgets that and he forgets that everyone and their mother trusts Connor with his stupid big doe eyes and his carefree smile and that blinding generosity that makes Ethan's skin want to crawl off. But Connor, of course Connor has evidence and he finds himself in shut in a room with Lester and Matt and a couple of other suits and soldiers and Ethan's not stupid enough not to know that he couldn't take them all on. This isn't a battle he can win.

\+ + + 

Connor finds Becker in the armory, going meticulously through the weapons lockers, each piece being dismantled and reassembled carefully. His hands are a blur of metal and gun oil, his shoulders tense and his eyes focused on the job.

He reaches out, touches Becker's back and lets out a startled sound when Becker twists on the spot, grabbing Connor's wrist and shoving him up against the nearest locker. It digs into Connor's back and it hurts. Becker's eyes widen and he lets go, taking a couple of steps back.

"Don't sneak up on people, Temple," he says, voice short. It's the tone he always takes with Connor when Connor's annoying him, he learned that it makes Connor go away a whole lot faster. "Especially not people with guns."

Connor rolls his eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you," he mutters, ducking his head and scuffing the toe of his boots on the floor. His hands are in his pockets now he's got his balance back, fingertips pushed into the fabric because the jeans are too tight to actually allow his whole hand to slide in. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at putting his whole hand in, he slides his thumbs through the belt loops nearest the button of his jeans and leaves his hands there. "For earlier. With Ethan."

Becker's voice is cold. "You really don't know what you did, back there, the shit you could have bought down on yourself, on everyone." _On Me_ hangs in the air between them, unspoken and ugly. "It was stupid, Connor."

"I'm trying to help y-"

"Who said I need your help?" Becker demands, turning on Connor again, advancing, using his not unformidable height and stature to his advantage, crowding Connor back against the locker, caging him in. He feels something twisting in his gut, the way that Connor looks almost anxious making Becker feel sick warring with almost... arousal at having Connor so close after so long. "I don't need your help, Connor, so keep your nose out of business that doesn't concern you."

Hurt flashes through Connor's eyes before he sets his jaw and stubbornly shoves at Becker's chest. It doesn't do much, Becker's solid at the best of days and Connor just shoves again. "Get off- Becker, just-"

What's happening to him?

"Becker," Connor says, again, reaching out once more and curling his fingers hesitantly around Becker's wrists. He doesn't want to push Connor away but he knows Ethan's watching, knows what Ethan's capable of doing, and more than that, knows that Ethan's _right_ , Connor is too good for the guy that let him get lost in the past. "Becker, mate, please."

"Not now, Connor," Becker bites out sharply and pulls away. Connor's hands hang in the air. "I'm serious, just leave it."

Connor's jaw tenses and he turns on his heel, going to leave. Becker relaxes just a touch before Connor's back, tugging his shoulder and making him turn. Becker does, about to say something else when suddenly Connor's lips are against his pressing up into his body and it's all Becker can do to grip Connor's upper arms and hold on.

Connor went hunting for some inner courage to do that and when Becker doesn't respond, when he doesn't move other than to grab hold of Connor's arms, he pulls back a little, looking down and away and maybe a little embarrassed and bothered that whatever his plan had been - and what had it been, Connor? To hope that your magical kiss would make him suddenly snap out of it? - has clearly failed.

Becker wets his lower lip, he thinks he can still taste Connor on the edge of his tongue and the kiss was everything and not enough all at once because goddamn it that's what he'd wanted before but he isn't- he's not good enough and he's not right and he's not worthy.

"I should probably-" Connor tips his head towards the door, awkward and uncomfortable and Becker's still holding onto him so tightly. He looks down to see the hand curled just above his elbow, gripping it, stopping him from moving too far away and Becker's looking at him like it's everything and nothing all at the same time and Connor doesn't know what he's supposed to do here. "Becker-"

"Go, Connor," Becker says, his voice tight and he lets go of the vice-like grip he's got on the younger man's arm. He stares at his hand like it was acting without his permission and Connor looks at him, wide-eyed and confused but he backs off anyway, walking towards the door. His hand fumbles for the handle behind his back and he slips out and Becker doesn't watch him leave.

\+ + + 

It's messed up. Somewhere inside himself he knows that - but it's so deeply buried that Becker doesn't quite know what to do with it anymore. He's not weak, and so admitting that maybe Ethan's got some sort of hold over him isn't something he's going to willingly do. After all, who would trust their safety to a man who got so easily twisted and turned around by his superior?

Who would want a guy like that?

\+ + + 

Ethan stalks down the corridor, looking for Becker, trying to get him alone, but whenever he finds the soldier, Abby's there, or - more irritatingly - Connor's there. They don't seem to be leaving him alone and Becker just shoots him these borderline apologetic looks coupled with a tense jawline and a sort of resentment behind his eyes.

He's been told he has to face charges for the things he's done: the abuse of power and the regulations he's blatantly flaunted. He thinks that they're making a mistake, they've found some other Irish guy to replace him and that's not how things work.

This is Ethan's team.

If he's going down, the whole team is going down with him.

\+ + + 

He's taken into custody on a Thursday. Lester pushes the paperwork through, Philip is more reluctant - Ethan's a good leader and gets the job done and Philip doesn't much care about what else he does long as he does what he's paid to do - but Lester has the Minister on side and whilst they don't talk details, what they do talk about is enough to get Ethan arrested and detained whilst they figure out what to do with him.

Lester makes the announcement that Becker has been reinstated as a Captain, that he's currently in charge whilst they find someone to replace Ethan - and Danny, and Nick.

Everyone cheers, except Connor, who sees the look of panic that flickers behind Becker's eyes when Lester announces he'll be in charge again. He frowns and moves towards Becker to speak to him, but by the time he gets there, Becker's vanished.

\+ + + 

No one ever counted on Ethan disappearing, but he knows these gateways, he knows the anomalies. He's spent so much time in them as a young man that they're second nature. He kills the soldiers guarding him without getting anything more than a scratch and runs.

He doesn't want to stay in this time, and the strange - wrong, so wrong, it's not right - attachment that he's formed to Becker just needs to be left behind.

Ethan pushes down the urge he has to blow something - The ARC - up. Too risky.

But then, he thinks, when has he ever taken the safe option for anything?

He turns on his heel and runs again, this time in the opposite direction, and he starts planning. There'll be other gateways, ones he can escape through once he's done here.

He has a building to destroy.

\+ + + 

He gets a phone call. It's Friday evening and he's lying low, having grabbed a disposable phone to make some calls on for necessary things. He doesn't know who the caller is: the number's blocked, but the caller's frail, his voice soft and indistinct.

He tells Ethan he's got important things to share with him, knowledge about the future and the past and the present.

He tells Ethan that he's the only one that can stop Connor Temple. It makes Ethan listen.

"Meet me," the voice says, "And I'll tell you everything."

Ethan agrees and listens to the old, fraying man who is falling apart from the inside, his body turning against him. He tells tales of a world torn apart, of sulphur and underground living.

He tells of the man who ruins it all, he tells of the man who learns too much about natural phenomena and messes with things that shouldn't be messed with.

Ethan listens and learns, and somewhere in his mind thinks that this will be the perfect send off as he leaves this godforsaken place for a time and a place that's easier to deal with. But as he looks at the old man and sees him breathing through an oxygen tank, watching the clock like he's waiting for a visitor to come, Ethan can't help feel like perhaps there's a reason he was called here.

\+ + + 

There are explosions happening everywhere, and Becker's barking orders over the comm and in person, running through the hallways. His boots pound on the floors, opening doors and shepherding people out of the building, a steady stream of people headed towards the exit.

No one knows what happened, not really, but the terrified whispers of Ethan's name are probably correct: Ethan would do something like this. They don't know that he's gone, but he is, and they don't know where the explosions started from, carefully laid charges spiraling out from a single point. But Becker has a sickening feeling as he hurries down towards Connor's lab.

It's completely ruined.

\+ + + 

Connor wakes up to find his wrists bound. His head hurts, his whole body kind of hurts, actually, and not in a good way. He doesn't know where he is, but when he sees Ethan standing above him he realises that he's probably in a lot of trouble. It would do him good to feel scared right about now.

Yep, there it is. Connor feels fear rip through him as Ethan spots he's awake and crouches down, curling his hand in Connor's hair to tip his head back.

"Should have listened to your friend," he says, voice low and smooth, "I killed my own brother, there's no reason I can't kill you too."

Connor wants to say that Becker'll save him, that Becker'll put a bullet between Ethan's eyes but he can't because he's too busy beings scared.

"So be quiet like a good little hostage and we'll see what we can do."

Connor's quiet, yes, but he's thinking. Planning.

Granted, most of his plans would revolve around him actually being Batman, but that's neither here nor there, at least he's trying.

\+ + + 

Becker hasn't found Connor and he feels sick. How could he have let this happen again? Connor's missing, probably crushed somewhere underneath the rubble and Becker had to have Danvers and Stevens pull Abby away from where she was digging at the rubble of Connor's lab with her hands, shouting his name in high and shrill panicked tones.

He's standing there now, the fires have been put out and all he can think is that he doesn't want to see Connor's body unearthed during the reconstruction, and also, that this is the second time that The ARC has been blown up on his watch.

Maybe he should just quit for real this time.

\+ + + 

Jess's voice catches his attention. They've set up shop in the control room, builders swarming around them like insects, busy little worker bees working overtime to get everything up and running. They've got technician's on the case of the ADD, and they got it set up without Connor before, but that's hardly the point. It doesn't feel right doing this without him.

They still haven't finished clearing the rubble from the lower levels. Connor's lab hasn't been touched. Becker doesn't want to know if he's in there. They keep unearthing bodies that were buried in the explosions. He broke his pencil when he heard about another couple of people found. He wants to kill Ethan right now, for making them lose everything, for making him lose Connor again even though he's never given the psychotic man any cause to do something like... this.

But Connor did.

Becker's stomach clenches and Jess yells his name again, frustrated and annoyed that he isn't running to her beck and call. He turns and walks over to her, putting his hands on the back of her chair. She wriggles impatiently and finally Lester comes out of his office to join them.

There's a message blinking on her screen.

"What is it, Jessica? I have a lot of things to be doing." Lester says impatiently, adjusting his tie and straightening his jacket. He rubs his hand along his jawline and sends a withering scowl at a nearby builder when he lifts a jackhammer to start work on the floor by the door.

Jess pushes the button on the keyboard and the message stops flashing. It covers the whole screen and they're greeted with Ethan's face.

"By now I'm sure you've got my message," he says and there's a thud behind him, he turns his head and then sighs, looking back at the camera again. "Just to let you know, I'm not quite done yet. Now, I know you've got a monopoly on the gateways, so what I want is quite simple. The next gateway to open, you leave it. You don't send your men, James Lester and I quietly slip out and away and you never have to deal with me again."

Lester's jaw twitches. "We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Aah, but see, I have something you want." At this, Ethan looks almost disappointed that the feed isn't live. Becker knows Ethan would love to see their faces when he reveals whatever it is he's holding.

He steps aside and tilts the camera a little and the source of the thudding is revealed.

Abby's voice cracks and wavers at the edges when she says: " _Connor_."

\+ + + 

Ethan's happy enough that they'll do what he says, after all, they care more about Connor than is healthy for a work relationships. Ethan doesn't pretend to understand why everyone thinks the sun shines out of Connor's pert little arse, and he doesn't really care either. He just doesn't understand it. Connor's not handy with a gun, Ethan got the drop on him way too easily and so far, he hasn't put up much of a fight and that- well it just makes this sort of boring. Connor's just- not responding to him. After the initial look of fear, Connor's not done much of anything and Ethan's getting bored.

The only thing he did do was fall over and even then that was probably an accident. Connor is a walking disaster, after all.

He walks over and touches Connor's face. Barely notices the twitching of the muscles in the young man's jaw.

"Guess they're not coming for you," Ethan says and Connor just lifts his shoulders. He doesn't venture anything. Ethan growls under his breath and walks out.

He needs to make preparations.

\+ + + 

Connor's wrists are bleeding. Ethan used zip-ties to tie him to the chair, hands behind his back and he's been pulling on them as subtly as he can since he work up in the chair. He isn't weak anymore, and he's not pathetic. He survived over a year in the Cretaceous and he'll be damned if he did that just to die here.

Besides, he has to know why Becker- Has to know if he could kiss Becker ag-

He clears his throat, twisting the screw that he'd picked up when he fell. He'd closed his fingers around it and thinks that he should stop trying to do things he's seen in spy films because poking holes in plastic with a screw is really bloody hard and Connor's done little actual poking and more stabbing himself with it.

His skin hurts, but he knows the tie's getting a little looser because he's got a little more movement. But stabbing himself with a screw clearly isn't getting him anywhere. There's something sharper about three feet away, he can see a shard of metal with a pointy edge and it looks suitably dangerous and if Connor can manage to get himself over there without impaling himself on said pointy metal object (or losing his balance and falling over) then maybe he'll have a chance of freeing himself and showing Ethan that he's not just some wimpy kid. Not anymore.

He manages to bounce the chair three times before he loses his balance and it falls over. He hits his head on the floor, a sharp and resounding smack of his temple against concrete and the world goes fuzzy, but not dark. The pain that explodes across his skull less than a second later makes him wish he had passed out.

\+ + + 

Ethan's smart, but he's not smart enough because Jess spends hours looking and hunting for Connor, a woman on a mission chasing down the source of that transmission. She's narrowed it down to a couple of blocks - as it were. She has a rough area but it's hard to narrow it further. She knows that at least, she's certainly very glad that whilst Ethan was the MacGuiver of anomaly detecting, when it came to actual technology he was always a little bit stumped and for that she was eternally thankful. He didn't know how to cover his tracks.

Really, he was just very good at blowing things up and deleting things he didn't want seen. Jess doesn't know what happened, she doesn't think it's her place to go digging, but she does know that whatever it was, it has something to do with Becker and that's enough to have her wanting Ethan's head on a metaphorical spike.

Not a literal one, because that's disgusting and they have all evolved past that sort of primitive action thank you very much.

She presses two fingers to the silver device that's all but surgically attached to her head.

"I've found him," she announces, delighted with herself but obviously keeping it together for the sake of professionalism. No point in gloating, when everyone knows she's brilliant. "I'm sending you the co-ordinates now. Be careful."

She hears a cocky 'when are we ever not?' from one of Becker's men - they've rallied to support their Captain (Ethan's men are a little put out that their boss lost his mind so spectacularly but have fallen into line with Becker easily enough). Jess is pretty sure that Ethan's men will be getting fired, along with a few of the men on Becker's team that were a little too... eager to embrace the way that Becker was constantly humiliated.

Just thinking about it makes a white-hot anger bubble up inside Jess's stomach and chest, making it feel tight and twisty.

\+ + + 

He's run them in circles, and Becker's angry because this is the third building they've checked and Jess said that Ethan was somewhere here but with each building that they search that comes up empty, Becker feels something hollow gripping at his chest. Where the bloody hell is Ethan?

The Captain signals with two fingers for a team to head around to the exit of the building. It's a routine they know well, a fair few of _his_ men were in the SAS, various tactical units as well as Special Ops like Becker himself. Taking buildings is a walk in the park for them.

"Remember to watch for booby traps," Becker adds across the comm, his voice a low rumble of warning because he knows what Ethan's like and they're lucky that he obviously hasn't had time to set up other buildings.

They get into position and Becker gives the order to "Move out."

"Roger," comes over his line, a little staticky from Haversham and Clark's teams. "Move out. Meet you in the middle, Cap'."

Becker just nods even though the other two teams can't see him and he just lifts his gun. It sits snugly against his shoulder and he's got a good view down his sight. At least Ethan didn't take away their weaponry.

This has to be the right building, Becker thinks. They've all been out of the way, run down and vaguely disgusting but there's something about this one that has Becker's senses on alert, that has his gut telling him to proceed with caution. His gut hasn't spoken to him for a long time and it saved his ass in Afghanistan.

He knows better than to ignore it.

His gut's telling him he'll find Connor here. His mind's telling him he'll find Connor dead, lost to him again and it'll be his fault, again. His heart's panicking because he can't survive another death by his hands, he just can't.

\+ + + 

Ethan's smug and underestimates Becker. Connor knows this much even though he hasn't been back for that long. He knows that Ethan's not as together as he seems, that there's something inside of him that's broken and Connor wonders if he hasn't been through an anomaly in the past. He recognises - horrifyingly - something in the way that Abby looks at times, and the way that he probably does too. There's just something inside that's not quite right anymore.

Connor realises something's happening before Ethan does. Ethan's playing with the portable ADD in his hand, trying to widen its search capability, trying to make it search all over London, maybe even all over the UK to find an anomaly that would get him the hell out of here. He doesn't know what he's doing and Connor thinks that he should have stuck with fiddling with radios or however it was that he located the anomalies in the past. He's been hauled up again because he keeps trying to get to the sharp, pointy metal thing but Ethan's just moving him further and further away with each try and Connor's core body strength, whilst great, isn't good enough to get him bouncing the nine or ten bounces he needs and then the tipping to land on the object. Or near it. On it might hurt.

His mind keeps flicking back to that sort of kiss that he'd thrown on Becker. It feels like it was ages ago now though it's been just over two days. Connor only knows that because the sun's risen twice. It's getting to late afternoon, now, though, and there's been no sign of a rescue. Connor thinks maybe they should get GPS chips implanted into them. This would never happen if they had a tracking chip somewhere inside them. He shivers and then frowns when he sees a shadow cross the door at the very edge of the floor. They're in a warehouse of some sort and Connor would guess they're on a very high floor: he can't see out the windows properly but the sun's coming in unhindered by surrounding buildings, and Connor can't hear traffic which means they're either very high up or out of the way and Connor would willingly bet that it's both.

He sees a shadow and when Ethan's head turns to follow his gaze, he knocks himself over again to distract him. It works and another shadow slides past the doorframe too. Connor's heart starts racing in anticipation. This is it, he's going to be rescued. Becker's finally come for him.

\+ + + 

It's not that easy, though. Ethan's senses are alert and he might be smug and overconfident but he was the head of security at The ARC for a reason. Like Becker, his gut is never wrong. Ethan spins on the spot after having heard something (but Connor doesn't know what because he didn't hear anything) and the next thing Connor knows, he's got an arm around his throat, his legs have been cut free and there's a knife pressed against the curve of his jaw, hard enough that the skin's broken a little bit and he can feel blood dribbling down the length of his neck.

\+ + + 

Becker lifts his hand, a silent command to tell everyone to stop. He doesn't feel like he can breathe, the knife's pressing into Connor's throat and Becker can see the trickle of blood. Ethan knows - Becker's fully aware - that if he pushes the blade in less than an inch deeper, he'll hit an artery. Connor'll bleed to death and there'll be nothing Becker can do to save him. He'll have to watch Connor die.

He knows that's what Ethan wants to do, more than anything, can see it in the crazy man's eyes. Wants to take that last thing that Becker can hold onto away. He knows the moment Ethan spots him: the sick spread of a smile across his face, the increased pressure of the blade against pale, vulnerable skin.

He swallows thickly.

"I know you're there, Becker. Come out where I can see you." Ethan asks, voice liquid and sickly and Connor's stomach turns as Becker appears, shotgun in his hand like it belongs there. Ethan presses the blade a little tighter. Connor swallows reflexively and flinches, eyes shutting briefly because- God, he might die here. He's survived being attacked by various dinosaurs but here, surrounded by armed men, he'll die by getting his throat slashed.

His eyes flick to Becker and there's a moment where their eyes meet. Connor feels like the world's suddenly slowing down and he feels a little dizzy. Becker just nods at him, minute, imperceptive and Connor doesn't feel reassured.

"Let him go, Ethan," Becker says, lifting his gun again until Ethan's scowl stops him. Before Ethan, Becker would have just shot, a single bullet straight to the brain. He's got good enough aim for it, he'd never miss, but there's just- something about Ethan. Becker looks at his hands, they're shaking.

"Put your weapon down and maybe we can talk about an exchange. Connor for safe passage. It's what I want. I already told you that."

"We aren't moving on this one, Ethan. I've got my orders." He sounds almost...apologetic, even as he lowers his weapon, crouches to put it on the floor. Ethan lifts an eyebrow, silently telling Becker to remove his other weapons too: Ethan knows Becker likes to carry several. Reluctantly, Becker complies, though doesn't move the small pistol pressed against the small of his back.

Ethan sighs. "You always were so good at following orders," he muses, taking half a step closer, forcing Connor to stumble forward too. The knife is still so close to Connor's throat, the tip embedded in his skin. Everyone else has their weapons trained on him, just waiting for the signal to shoot. Becker hasn't given it yet, even though some have clear shots.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Ethan," Becker says finally, holding out his hands in a pacifying gesture and Ethan just sighs again.

"You know it does. I'm not going to have a mockery of a trial just to make your suits feel better, the puppets who have you dancing on a string to their tune because none of you can think outside the box or past your orders. I proved that, didn't I? That you're all so eager to make your superior officer happy you'll do anything." He looks disgusted, "And what a merry bunch of puppets you were for me. You went where I wanted, did what I wanted."

Connor struggles a little.

"And then the prodigal son returns. And suddenly everything changes." He tightens his grip around Connor, making the younger man go still. He's not just addressing Becker, even though he's watching the soldier, they're all listening, all being spoken to. "You think you're so much better than me because this isn't the way you do things. Tell me, how many of you have killed men because your superior officer told you to? How many of you have followed blindly into something just because that's your orders?"

Becker's jaw twitches, a couple of the other men's jaws do too, but they keep Ethan in their sights.

"And right here, what if I tell you that I spoke to someone, told him about The ARC, told him about Connor here, how smart he is. How clever." The words are punctuated with a slight shake and Connor's body's trembling anyway, shoulders strained from having had his hands bound for so long. "And he told me that our little Connor Temple here, the geek that creates all our wonderful technology - so easily replaced when Becker carelessly lost him - ends the world."

His face is neutral as he speaks, flat and completely convinced of what he's saying. Becker feels a chill in his stomach, as does Connor.

"What? No! I'm- what?" It's the first time he speaks. His voice is thready with something that sounds like fear and Becker wants to reach out, steal him away, hide him from Ethan. "I'd never do that!"

"Oh, but you do. I've seen it. I've been there. You and Nick Cutter, end of the world." Ethan's eyes fall to Becker, "He has the chance to stop it, in the future. The chance to end it all and save the whole of humanity, but he doesn't take it. He doesn't stop you, because you're a coward, Becker. At the end of it all, you can't be trusted to do the right thing because you don't know what the right thing is anymore."

Connor's gone very still. "I'd never do that. You- Becker, you know I'd never do that." There's a pleading tone to his voice, like he's terrified that Becker'll believe Ethan over him.

"But I could do it right here, just finish him off and the future would be saved. I'd even let you all take the credit, provided you let me just... disappear. Go somewhere else." Ethan's voice is so calm and even and Connor can barely believe that the man is real. He's just standing there casually talking about murdering Connor for something he might do in the future, like he's a character in Terminator and they have to kill him now for what he _might_ do.

"I wouldn't! I'm not- Why would I do that?" Connor asks Ethan, struggling a little bit more and Ethan just presses his cheek against the side of Connor's face.

"Who knows why anyone does anything?" Ethan breathes, voice soft and quiet. "Just ask your Captain Becker over there the things he did, all in the name of keeping you safe, for making up for the past transgressions he considered himself as having done."

Connor looks nauseated and he twists his head away from Ethan.

"What's it going to be, boys?" Ethan asks, raising his voice again to address everyone. "Will you save Connor Temple and condemn the world? Or will you let me finish it right here, right now and you can go back to your job and back to your beds, your wives and girlfriends knowing that you've saved them from a swift and painful death?"

Ethan takes his eyes of Becker for a minute, that's all, just a minute.

It's all Becker needs.

\+ + + 

The bullet hits Ethan between the eyes, his arm spasms, tightens around Connor's neck and as Ethan falls, Connor falls with him, on top of him. He struggles to get loose without the use of his hands.

Becker's feet move before he can stop them, tugging Connor to his feet by the front of his shirt, doing a very quick visual examination before putting his arms around Connor and holding him tight - too tight for someone whose arms are still restrained.

Connor says nothing though, just closes his eyes and breathes in and tells himself that he isn't going to cry.

\+ + + 

The report is brief, concise. Everyone chips in with their spin on the events and they all match up evenly. Lester looks through them all and gives his stamp of approval, as it were, waving his hand and sending them all on their way except Becker.

"Captain," he calls just as Becker reaches the door. "Stay for a minute." His hand motions towards the chair. "Please take a seat."

Becker moves towards the table, shakes his head. "I'd rather stand, if that's alright, Sir."

James Lester sighs but nods his head. "I'd like you to report to Julia McManus," he says and Becker feels the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't see the need to see a-"

Lester cuts off his protests. "That's an order, Captain. For your own wellbeing and for my sanity. I need you to be on form and in top shape, and to make sure that Ethan hasn't-" Lester waves his hand, not wanting to say 'damaged' even though that's exactly what he means.

"Hasn't what?" Becker calls him out on his silence and Lester purses his lips. He doesn't look at Becker, instead picks up the phone on his desk, holding the receiver to his ear.

"You know exactly what I'm trying to say, Captain. Now if you'll excuse me, I must speak to the Minister."

Becker just lifts his chin a little. "Of course, Sir." He turns on his heel and walks out, heading straight for the gun range because he needs to vent somewhere and now that Ethan isn't around to spar with, how else is he going to get rid of his tension?

\+ + + 

Becker's never realised how much Ethan had gotten into his life until the man's gone. Despite the fact that - he knows - Ethan manipulated him and, in many ways, hurt him, Becker finds himself missing the man because, really, he thinks he needed those harsh reality checks to keep him in line. Without them, what's to stop him from making the same mistakes over and over again? Nothing, that's what.

He also misses the physicality of having Ethan around. He still stiffens when he hears the thud of footsteps, but there's no rush of adrenaline, and no sense of deserving when he does spar with his colleagues and one of them just happens to land a hit. It's just a punch in the face: Becker doesn't feel like he deserves it.

He pushes his fingers through his hair, disheveling it and feeling very glad that he's going home, and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

\+ + + 

Connor hesitates in going to see Becker. They've barely spoken since he was rescued, and Johnson - the medic - gave him the all clear, bandaged up his wrists and stuck a tiny, almost see-through plaster against his neck and told him not to do anything involving heavy lifting for a few days. By the time he was done in what he calls the Sick Bay, Becker had gone and Connor was left wondering where to go now, and what to do.

Abby corners him and hugs him nearly to death, telling him off for scaring her like that and that he needs to be more careful because he's important and they can't lose him. She teases him and asks what the point of her teaching him to defend himself was if he was just going to roll over like a damsel in distress and let himself be kidnapped. Connor laughs with her but feels a little sick because he's been wondering the same thing himself.

But he just hugs her tight and puts his arms around her, kisses her hair and reassures her that he's okay, that he's going to go home and get some sleep. She nods, unsure but lets him leave anyway and he feels her eyes on his back the whole way as he leaves.

He can't find Becker anywhere on the base, so he hacks into Becker's private file to find his address. A part of him wants to look at the personal details, find Becker's date of birth, his first name, details about his family. But he doesn't. He just finds Becker's address and then closes it down.

He leaves not long after that. He's avoided Philip since he came back.

\+ + + 

Connor grabs a taxi to Becker's place, his wallet still has some money in it and he doesn't know if it'll be enough but he's hoping because he can't remember his PIN number right now and there's never a cash machine around conveniently close for when you need it in a hurry. He fidgets in the back, the driver chatting about something related to the stars, and them pulling their shit together with a thick London accent and normally it would have made the corner of Connor's lip curl up, but he was preoccupied tonight.

"You ain't in any trouble, are you, lad?" the cabbie asks and Connor's eyes meet his in the rear view.

"What?"

"Just- seein' as you got some cuts and stuff. Just checking I'm not dropping you off somewhere you'll be in trouble." Connor ducks his head sheepishly. It's annoying how people constantly feel that he needs looking after: even total strangers.

"No, I'm- I'm not in any trouble. I'm visiting a friend. He'll protect me if there's anything to be protected from." He smiles a little and rubs self-consciously at his bandaged wrists with long fingers. He wriggles again. "Are we nearly there?"

The cab pulls to a stop and the driver shifts, spreading one meaty arm across the back of the front seats to look at Connor through the perspex glass shielding that separates cabby from passenger.

"That'll be fifteen seventy two." Connor feels a quick surge of relief that it's under twenty quid, though he thinks for the distance they travelled it's daylight bloody robbery, but hands over a twenty pound note and slips over to the door that's beside the curb.

"Thanks, keep the change," and with that, he slips out, pushes the door shut and watches the cab pull away from the apartment building and into the busy traffic. He stands and just looks for a couple of moments, watching cars pass, angry London drivers honking their horns at each other and a buses and at pedestrians that they nearly hit due to their own stupidity.

Then he turns his eyes to Becker's building, looks up at it. It's huge, an expensive apartment the likes of which Connor would never dream of owning (or renting) even with all that back pay that he and Abby- that he got from that year in the Cretaceous. He wants a little place of his own, but he'd be happy with something small, something unique.

Connor never did like the Fight Club idea of your stuff owning you, becoming a spread in an IKEA catalogue just wasn't him.

He pushes the buzzer for Becker's flat but didn't get an answer, stood outside for ten minutes and then dropped dejectedly onto the steps that lead up to the entrance. With his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, Connor figures it won't kill him to wait for someone to come out so he can slip in.

Turns out it might have done, it's nearly forty minutes before someone actually comes to the door and he bolts in so quickly that - as he stands in the lift - he becomes vaguely worried that the woman might have called security and hurries out of his hoodie, turning it inside out (it's reversible, he's not an idiot) and slipping it on so it's blue instead of green. He does up the zip and runs a hand through his hair and tries to calm himself down enough that when the lift pings on Becker's floor, he's not shivering quite so violently.

\+ + + 

He knocks three times on Becker's door, briefly compares himself to Sheldon in that Big Bang Theory television show he watches when no one else is around at Jess' place and chews on his lower lip. He waits, because he knows Becker's in: his tracking device had him going straight home. Connor got Jess to check for him when he was stuck outside.

He waits some more.

Becker doesn't come to the door for a few, long minutes and Connor has to knock again, just to see, testing if Becker's ignoring him or if he's sleeping or something. Either way, Connor's come all this way and sat out in the cold and he wants to be let into Becker's apartment so he can have a cup of tea and maybe a chat and start to warm up a little bit. His wrists are aching, the skin underneath the twin bandages is raw and still breaks way too easily but it's only been a couple of days. Connor finds that he still twitches a little bit whenever he hears an unexpected sound. He wonders how pathetic that makes him. Then again, he had been kidnapped by a psycho who had tried to kill him.

Connor rubs just underneath his jaw, where there was a cut, a mark that would possibly leave a scar because he's a compulsive picker - it's a nervous habit - and even if he left it alone, it's one of those things in one of those places that will probably stay as a reminder. It's a war wound, but not one Connor can ever tell anyone about. It's all classified, and all that.

His stomach twists and tumbles over itself, making him feel vaguely nauseous as he lifts his hand to knock on the door for a third time when it swings open and Becker's revealed, in a pair of sweatpants and what looks to be a t-shirt from his days at Sandhurst.

"I- uh-"

"How did you even get in here?" Becker asks and Connor just looks at him sheepishly, rubs the back of his neck and his fingers skirt over the mark Ethan left behind. Becker's eyes follow his hand. "Never mind, come on."

He steps aside and Connor hurries in before the Captain changes his mind.

Becker glances heavenward and shuts the door behind Connor. The lock clicks into place and the chain's slid across and he finally feels safe again.

\+ + + 

Connor pushes a breath out of his lungs as Becker sits on the sofa. There's silence hanging in the air and it's awkward, it's uncomfortable. Connor's wrists hurt and Becker's stoically not looking at him.

"Do you want a beer?" Connor asks, breaking the tension and it causes the tiniest smile to skitter onto Becker's face. "You've gotta have beer in your fridge, right?" It's a desperate attempt to break the tension and Connor's on his feet, heading through to the little kitchen area before Becker can answer.

"Shouldn't I be offering you a drink?" Becker asks and Connor can hear his footsteps on the linoleum and Connor thinks it strange that Becker still has shoes on.

Connor just opens the fridge and leans in, feels like if he crouches down he might just topple over and that wouldn't be good. "It's alright, I'm here now, right?" He glances up to see Becker looking down at him. The expression on the Captain's face is unreadable, and Connor feels something inside him twist. He averts his gaze and grabs two beers.

When he stands up again and knocks the fridge door shut with his foot, Becker's still looking at him and Connor holds up the bottles. "Can't open these with my teeth, I tried it once, chipped my tooth." Beneath his lips, Connor's tongue finds the chipped tooth, pressing against it.

Becker looks like he's confused for a moment before he moves past Connor. Connor presses himself against the fridge to get out of the way, but Becker's arm still brushes Connor's and Connor's heart thump-thumps.

"I'll get it, go sit down."

Connor just nods and moves to go through to the living room and slumps into the sofa again. He pushes his fingers into his eyes once the beers are on the table.

There's silence in the flat again but it's not quite so heavy this time as Becker comes to sit down next to him. Connor doesn't look up as the beer bottles are cracked open and he feels the cold press of glass against his palm.

The couch cushions have dipped a little bit where Becker came to sit down and Connor slides across a little, feeling the press of their thighs coming together.

Becker doesn't flinch.

Connor hesitates, curls his fingers against the denim of his jeans before moving his hand, slowly, resting it on top of Becker's knee. He doesn't turn his head, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Becker tilt his gaze, look at Connor's hand. He sees the Captain swallow.

The next thing he feels, as Connor looks away to take a sip of his beer, is the warmth of a hand covering his, calloused fingertips curling around his own.

Connor feels a smile tugging at his lips and he leans a little further over. His side comes to rest against Becker's and he starts to think that maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.


End file.
